


Reconcilable

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-28
Updated: 2004-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: Well, they may have never directlysaidone night, but it had been implied, hadn’t it? When two guys hook up at a party, after circling each other for a few parties before that, it’s always about sex. Not a relationship. Certainly not red-rose-on-the-table material. Even if the effect of the rose is somewhat tempered by the beer mug. Maybe that had been a deliberate choice.





	Reconcilable

**Author's Note:**

> For Ghani; because I thought of this, and then I thought of her. Thanks to Brenda for the thorough and grammatically correct beta.

Orlando blinks when he crosses into the kitchen, seeing something that doesn’t belong, dodging the corner of the counter out of habit while rubbing sleep-dust out of his eyes. There’s a rose on his kitchen table, sticking out at an angle from a beer mug that he recognizes as having come from his cabinet. There’s only one person who could have put it there, and it makes sense that he wouldn’t have known Orlando didn’t own a vase. But why would he, after all? Vases don’t really have a place in bachelor pads.

But then, neither do roses, which may be why this one looks so incongruous, sitting innocently in the center of his kitchen table, half-covered in unopened mail and sticky-notes jotted down to keep his life in some sort of order. Out-of-place but not minding, like Harry in his bed last night, when the two of them were aware that they seemed ill-matched, but the pull was too strong to ignore.

Harry had been a surprise, gentle where Orlando would have expected him to be rough, firm and understanding when Orlando had feared impatience. Harry’s mild-mannered exterior should have been a giveaway, but for some reason Orlando hadn’t thought it would last, once the two of them were alone and behind closed (and locked) doors.

And now this, a flower on his kitchen table, at odds with the purposefully bland palette of his décor. And not just any flower, but a red rose. Orlando may not know a lot about flowers, but he knows what that means, and it has no place being on the table of his house, the morning after a one-night stand.

Well, they may have never directly _said_ one night, but it had been implied, hadn’t it? When two guys hook up at a party, after circling each other for a few parties before that, it’s always about sex. Not a relationship. Certainly not red-rose-on-the-table material. Even if the effect of the rose is somewhat tempered by the beer mug. Maybe that had been a deliberate choice.

Orlando sits at the table, watching its new occupant with ill-concealed suspicion. He’s frustrated now, out of sorts and made cross by a stupid rose, and of course now he can’t help but think Beauty and the Beast thoughts, inane as that is, and how Harry is nothing like the Beast at all (Orlando is just vain enough to cast himself as Beauty, gender roles and personal preferences notwithstanding), but how others might see them that way, if they decided not to make this a one-night stand after all.

And how early did Harry get up this morning, anyway, to have gone out for the flower and come back to Orlando’s to leave it on the table (in the beer mug), even before heading out for the shoot? There isn’t a florist nearby, or if there is, Orlando doesn’t know about it – again, why would he? He hasn’t needed to buy flowers – so Harry must have driven across town, pre-dawn, when the sky is just starting to turn pink over the gray. Harry had morning filming, they’d talked about it last night; because if Harry had been working in the afternoon, they were thinking about getting dinner before Orlando went in for night shoots.

It’s after eleven now; Orlando apparently slept through the morning. All right, fair enough, they didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. There were always more places to touch, to explore through every sense…like the way Harry had smelled faintly of cinnamon across his chest, sparse hairs scattered around the curves of muscle, but his lips had tasted like the Moroccan dish they had for dinner, and something else, cream and spice, which must have been the dessert Harry’d ordered that Orlando hadn’t tried, because he’d been distracted by the way Harry’s lips had looked when they’d closed around the spoon.

But for him to sleep through Harry getting dressed and leaving…and then Harry must have come back, and rooted through his cabinets in search of a vase. Maybe he’d even checked on Orlando before leaving again, smiling at the sight of him sprawled across the sheets where Harry had left him. Although Orlando imagines he would be solicitous and quiet, sneaking through the house so as not to wake Orlando. It only makes sense, remembering how considerate as he had been in bed last night, when Orlando had started blushing and trying to hide it with bluster.

So maybe the rose could fit. For a while, anyway, it’s undoubtedly going to die within a couple of days. They always do, it’s part of why buying them is so incredibly pointless. But until then, it’s not so bad. Maybe Harry would stay as well, if only for a little while, assuming that’s even what he wants. But there’s the rose, right? Sitting there like cryptic proof that Harry wants more than Orlando had bargained for.

Someone clears their throat, and Orlando feels like a startled rabbit – a startled, guilty rabbit – when he looks up and sees Harry standing in the doorway. Yet another surprise, one more unexpected occurrence brought about by Harry to pleasantly off-balance Orlando’s life.

“It’s just a flower,” Harry says, obviously amused even though he’s trying to hide the smile, the corners of his lips twitching. Orlando blinks, remembers that he’s still wearing nothing but linen pants and quite clearly had just woken up. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, though, just keeps half-smiling fondly at him while he sits there at the table with the rose and no breakfast.

‘It’s not, though,’ he wants to protest, but something in the way Harry is looking at him dissolves the words, makes him shrug and smile instead. He feels like he doesn’t really need the words for this, like they can make do just fine without them. “Thanks.”

“Come back to bed?” Harry suggests, and Orlando smiles without the protest that he just woke up, because he doesn’t have to go in for filming today, and his bed with Harry in it is much better than without. He leaves the rose sitting on the table, because the stronger temptation is clearly the one lounging in the doorway…and besides, the rose isn’t bothering him quite so much anymore.


End file.
